


white blood

by mintandspice



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintandspice/pseuds/mintandspice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wee Hawke and Anders study thing. Just messing about and warming up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white blood

Garrett Hawke is a lithe man, athletically built and extremely fit. He’s a rogue, nimble and exceptionally versatile. He’s notably good with his hands - the same fingers that wrap around swords and daggers to strike piercing blows into the necks of mercenaries can also disarm traps and pick locks - or pockets - with gentle care and skill. He’s a clean man, soft, shaggy, brown hair always looking freshly washed, beard trimmed close to his face. Hawke is a lover of finery. His mansion in Hightown houses scores of fancy furniture, and he’ll often be found in front of the fire with a tankard of Antivan brandy, dressed in his Orlesian silk robes, feet up, not giving a second thought to what some poor slave had to go through so he could sit in the lap of luxury.

~

Anders is a mage, this you can tell by observing his palms - slightly, ever so slightly, singed from spell casting. He’s scrawny, often choosing to spend his coin on his clinic for refugees rather than food. His nose is a little too big for his face, and his chin is covered in light stubble. His eyes are honey brown, topped with a thick, dark brow. Anders can’t bear to be in the expensive end of Kirkwall, watching the ignorance as he imagines the peoples’ plight under the skin of the city in it’s cruel, terrible veins. The dust from Darktown is always present on him, like a warning for the nobles to stay away, and it’s currently visible on the black feather pauldrons he always wears, dulling their glossy green shine, and in his hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a spectrum ranging from deep blonde to flecks of grey that are appearing a little too early. When he walks home from the clinic by himself, he does it face down, quickly.

~

Some days, Hawke gets home before Anders. Anders knows almost as soon as he enters that Hawke is back, gauntlets and boots dumped carelessly in the reception area. He’ll chuckle quietly, picking up the discarded bits of armour and setting them down somewhere neat. He’ll creep up the stairs, nodding a greeting to Bodahn, and find the rest of the armour laying messily on the bedroom floor, and Hawke, laying just as messily in a heap on the bed, napping after a hard day’s work. Anders finds a way to move his limbs so that he can snuggle up to him. He’ll nuzzle his neck, the red skin hot with the trapped heat of the sun, a sign that Hawke had been working outside. Probably on the Docks, helping some smugglers, Anders ponders to himself, or somewhere on Sundermount, and he gets up and wanders to the kitchen.

~

Other days, Anders gets home before Hawke. Drained from healing patients in the clinic, he slumps on the bed and sleeps. Hawke will find him an hour or so later, and perch on the bed next to him, and just observe. Under the thin linen shirt, he sees what seems like an even thinner layer of milky white skin, and beneath that, the obvious contours of delicate bones which shouldn’t be present, the body of a man who hasn’t had enough food in a long time. He’ll look especially at Anders’ face. It’s a face he knows well, one that he can mentally trace every detail of. He knows every expression, the way Anders’ brow knits together when he talks about the oppression of mages, the way he looks when Hawke glances down to see his cock in the other man’s mouth. But when Anders sleeps, it’s a different thing, just a beautiful face, relaxed and emotionless. Hawke will sit there for a long time, until Anders stirs, and Hawke will leave, smiling, not wanting to get caught.

~

More days than not, they come home together. Hawke will wait outside Anders’s clinic patiently, watching patients come out of the door, and lighting up when he sees the healer himself, ready to leave. Occasionally, they’ll fit in a drink at the Hanged Man, courtesy of Varric, and sometimes even Isabela. Now and then, they’ll visit Aveline, or maybe Merill. Always, they’ll walk home stride for stride, in a silence that isn’t awkward at all, just precious, the way that the two are satisfied with each other’s company without even needing to speak a word.


End file.
